The ones who counted
by Lordofthesherlock
Summary: This story is about how Sherlock realises how many friends he really has and how much he cares for them and they care for him. Sherlock shows them this by trying to rescue John and Molly from The Black Lotus who kidnap them in order to get revenge on Sherlock. They plan to track Molly and John down separately and kill them brutally. Will Sherlock save them and himself in time?
1. A decent cup of tea

**Hi guys, I just want to say this is my first ever Sherlock story so I'm not sure I have captured the characters all that well but have a read and tell me what you think. :) Lots of reviews please and if you think I haven't captured the characters well please give me some advice. Thanks!**

JOOOHN!" Sherlock roared from the living room.

"What is now Sherlock?! I'm just making the tea you just ordered me to get you!" I yelled back at Sherlock from the kitchen. This was how most of our conversations went, instead of having a civilised conversation together in one room; it was normally one of us in one room and the other in another with us yelling arguments back and fourth to each other (mostly orders from Sherlock).

"Oh yes! I think I'll have a whisky actually, forget the tea! I need something stronger than tea…"

"But I just spent hours making it! You made a massive fuss over me putting not enough sugar in, or it being too strong, or-"

"Oh John… Dear John… what would I do without you! There feel better now that I have complemented you? Now fetch me a whisky!"

I rolled my eyes. Why did I always wait around on Sherlock like I was his father? It was like an instinct now, I did it so much. I saw it as if Sherlock needed taking care of, like he couldn't do anything himself. I sometimes wondered what Sherlock did before we had met. Who waited on Sherlock then?

I was about to pour Sherlock's tea away when i thought of something.

"I've poured about five cups of tea away for you already trying to make a perfect cup! Why don't we invite Mrs Hudson over to have a cup?" I suggested.

"Uugh! Do we have too?! I really don't feel like being…being sociable!" Sherlock complained back at me.

"Sherlock that's a stupid excuse! You never feel like being sociable unless you need to get information out of someone."

"It's not my fault that the minority of people in this world of ours, are just stupid and rather…no incredibly irritating!"

"Sherlock you really need to learn how to be more tolerant of people! People think the same about you ya know!"

"That's because they're jealous" Sherlock protested.

"Not necessarily" I replied, bringing Sherlock's Whisky into the living room. Sherlock was curled up on the sofa hugging his knees like always. I had a list of all Sherlock's 'famous' positions as I called them. They weren't really famous, only to the people who really knew him like me, Mycroft or Mrs Hudson.

"Sherlock! Do you want this or not!"

He sat up, taking the cool glass from my hands.

"I really need to go food shopping…" I muttered sitting down on my armchair. I picked up the newspaper and looked at Sherlock.

"What?" He said, looking at me.

"It seems you've been sat on your backside for days! How do you not feel all lethargic or even bored out of your mind?" I questioned him raising my eyebrows.

"Oh John…I have been being entertained for the last six hours." He said smiling his cheeky smile like I was about to hear something I didn't want to hear.

"What? How?"

"You."

"What do you mean me? How have I been entertaining you?"

"Oh it's quite entertaining watching you rush around after me, waiting on me like a parent."

I put my head in my hands and sighed deeply. This was it. I was going to teach Sherlock how to do something that no one would ever think they could see him do. It would take a lot of effort and time, but I was determined.

"Right that's it. I'm going to teach you how to do things for yourself." I said with a smile.

"What?" Sherlock laughed as if he didn't believe what I was saying and I didn't have a clue what I was talking about which was normally the case with Sherlock, but this time I did.

"Okay, let's put it this way. I'm going to stop waiting on you and doing what you say." I said smiling even wider.

Sherlock stared at me as if he was terrified. I laughed out loud and he came over and slapped me annoyed but I carried on laughing at his terrified face and the fact he couldn't bear it without me there to take care of him.


	2. It starts with a deal

I entered the kitchen the next morning surprised to see Sherlock up and playing his violin. "So you've decided to get up off your ass finally?" I asked. He stopped playing for a moment looked at me, and started playing again.

I went into the kitchen and opened the fridge to see what we had in. Not much. I opened the bottom draw and quickly shut it and held my nose when I discovered a bag of fingers frozen at the very bottom.

"Sherlock is it possible you could take these out of the fridge? I was thinking about doing some food shopping this morning." I said.

I walked back into the living room to see Sherlock looking at me nervously.

"Oh yes! I said I was going to wait on you anymore didn't I?"

"Well John, it's you going to get food for the both of us, so it isn't exactly waiting on me now is it?"

He continued playing his violin.

"Well Sherlock I think it's about time you can went for once"

He gave me that look again; like there was no way he was ever going to go food shopping.

"Fine then, let's make a deal. I will stay here and tidy the flat, whilst you go and get something to eat for the week, unless you want no food!"

"Couldn't it be the other way around?" He asked mysteriously.

"Why? Are you afraid of someone seeing you and you ruining your reputation of being a lazy bastard?" John chuckled.

Sherlock gave me a wry smile and continued playing the violin again.

"Well, do we have a deal? I asked getting impatient.

He hesitated before putting his violin down on his armchair and taking my hand.

"Yes John I suppose we do." He replied, not looking to happy with himself.

…

I stumbled through the cupboards and closets searching for a Vacuum when I realised we didn't even have one. _How can we not have a Vacuum cleaner?!_

I decided I better ask Mrs Hudson if I could borrow one. I didn't normally need to hoover the house because Sherlock always complained that it was too noisy and disturbed his 'high functioning mind'.

I went upstairs to Mrs Hudson's flat to see if she could lend me the vacuum. I gently knocked on the door to her room, and called "Mrs Hudson? Are you in there?"

The door opened and revealed Mrs Hudson in her dressing gown, and she covered her mouth as she yawned.

"Oh I'm so sorry my dear John I haven't even got dressed yet! I woke up this morning feeling quite ill. I seem to have a bit of a cold, dear me"

"Oh dear, I'm sorry to hear that…anyway I came up to ask if I could borrow your hoover? It's hard to believe but we don't seem to have one!"

"You?! Doing Vacuuming?! Sherlock will throttle you!"

"Oh no, not this time! Believe it or not but Sherlock has gone to do some shopping"

Mrs Hudson stared at me astonished.

"My dear John Watson, what could you possibly have done?!


	3. The First Task

_Sherlock_

I reached into my pocket to find the list of things we needed that John gave me before I left the flat. It read:

_-Milk_

_-Beans_

_-Toilet roll_

_-Tea bags_

_-Peppers_

_-Cereal_

_-Bread_

_-Butter_

_Choose some meals that you like! You're so fussy! _

_~John_

I crunched the paper up and put it back in my coat pocket. I didn't understand why John suddenly got so pissed off when I said that little comment about him entertaining me. Why did he suddenly want me to go shopping? It didn't seem very fair. I looked so stupid carrying this pathetic basket around, not knowing where I was suppose to be going. I didn't even know my way around this stupid shop! Where was I supposed to find Toilet roll?

I was pondering over this in my head when my phone vibrated in my pocket. A text from John.

_Could you get a vacuum cleaner? We don't have one! _

_Mrs Hudson has a terrible cold. I went upstairs to borrow _

_her hoover. _

_John_

I glared at the text. Great. Another thing to get. Right now I was in the vegetable section. I managed to find the peppers and beans that were on the list, but I had no idea where to go next. John would laugh at me and say "Sherlock Holmes, beaten by a supermarket". _No way is that happening_ I thought to myself. I looked around and saw a man dressed in bright green and black trousers. _Obviously works here then_. I saw him carrying a trolley full of things he needed to put on shelves. I skimmed the trolley until I saw something on John's list. _Toilet roll, _I spotted. I followed the man but keeping my distance so it wasn't obvious I was following him.

The shop was so crowded with mothers and kids and scruffy teenagers, I just wanted to shove them all out of my way but I knew I would probably get kicked out if I did that. So, I continued to follow the man until he took me to the toilet roll shelf. I grabbed the first packet I saw and shoved it in the basket. I walked down the aisle and saw nothing else I needed so I moved onto the next aisle.

How boring shopping is. How does John cope?

After about half an hour, I managed to get everything that was on the list and felt rather pleased with myself as I knew John would be surprised. He better of cleaned the flat spotless by the time I got back. I bet he would be sitting in his armchair reading a book or something.

I went to queue up to pay, when I realised that John normally talks about having rows with the 'do it yourself' cash point machine things so I decided to that too. Besides, I couldn't be bothered to talk to people and the people who help you pack on the other ones always have to speak to you and ask stupid questions like, "How are you?" or "Have a good day at work?".

They are just incredibly annoying and unnecessary questions in my opinion. Besides, they don't actually care they are just trying to make conversation.

I could see what John meant about these machines, they really were annoying. The voice that instructed you went on and on and it was quite loud. I managed to get out of there finally after a few minutes. As soon as I was out of the supermarket and breathing the London air in again, I felt surprisingly relieved.

Who knew that a supermarket could interrogate me so much?

…...

I shut the door behind me quite loud to let John know I was back. I was looking forward to the look on his face when he saw how well I had done with the shopping.

"Back are we?" I heard him say.

And just as I had predicted, he was sitting in his armchair reading a book.

"So let's see how you've done" He said putting his book down.

I gave him all the bags and he emptied everything out onto the coffee table.

"Right, you've got the beans, the peppers, the tea bags, the toilet roll, the milk, the cereal, the bread the butter and…"

John stopped and put his head in his hands.

"What? What could I have possibly forgotten? I was so thorough!"

"You haven't forgotten anything Sherlock. You just got the wrong hoover that's all. I asked for the small one, you know the one without two parts? But I have to say, by my standards you did pretty well"

"I should think so! I am never doing that again!"

I turned to face John and just saw him chuckle and give his wry smile before taking the shopping into the kitchen, and putting everything away.

**Reviews please so I know what you think and if I should carry on with this! :)**


	4. Vengeance

_**John**_

****Sherlock received a call from Lestrade in the morning and went down to the police station. He said that I didn't need to bother coming, as he probably wouldn't be interested in the case; he would just point Lestrade in the right direction and come back to the flat.

Sherlock had been bored out of his mind for the few days that had passed and I thought he might just throttle himself if something didn't turn up sooner or later.

I had nothing to do all day, so I decided to help Mrs Hudson with her cold. She was too embarrassed to go out in the state that she was, so I did some shopping for her and helped her clean her flat.

I also decided to take the vacuum that Sherlock bought back to the shop and exchange it for the right one (the cheaper one).

I was just leaving the shop, when I received a text from Sherlock.

_John, _

_Get down to the station now. I have…interesting news. _

_ SH_

I rolled my eyes, but I still felt a little excited about this…news Sherlock was planning to tell me. I shuddered.

Parts of Sherlock were starting to rub off on me.

…...

When I arrived at the police station, I made my way to Lestrade's office as that was where I assumed they would be.

A soon as I walked through the door, Sherlock looked at me and beckoned me over to them.

He looked pretty pleased and excited, but I could see something else in his eyes.

He was worried, just a little.

"Sherlock what is it?" I asked.

"John, do you remember the case we solved with the Chinese code and the Black Lotus?"

"Yes...?"

"Well John. Let's make it short and simple. There back."

I stared at him, half of me thinking he was messing with me, and half of me knowing that he wouldn't joke about something like this. And I could tell by the look on his face, he wasn't joking.

"But how? The woman…The Chinese woman…She was shot remember? Moriarty killed her!"

"Yes John…He did. But the black Lotus now…it isn't really the same as it was before" Sherlock started. He could see the look of confusion on my face, so he looked at Lestrade as if telling him to explain. It was usually the other way around which befuddled me even further.

"Basically, the old woman who was the leader of the black lotus had a son. We never new until now but he was initially working for the black lotus all along. He was just never really with them."

"So what are you saying? That this son has come back for revenge on Moriarty or something? Can't you just tell him that he's dead and he has nothing to worry about because the deed has been done for him?" I asked still not knowing where this was going.

"Well, not exactly. Yes, he has come back for revenge but not on Moriarty."

"Then who?!" I demanded getting impatient.

Sherlock and Lestrade looked at each other and then back at me.

"Me." said Sherlock.


	5. The Beggining Of a Case

_**John**_

"But why?! You didn't kill her!" I argued as if I was talking to this son right now.

"Well, I suppose if Moriarty was still alive he would be going after him right now and then he would come for me" Sherlock said.

"Well first of all who is this guy? How old is he? Is he dangerous at all?" I asked.

"Well we know that his name is Dao, in China the name means knife or sword, we know that he clever and has a lot of information" Lestrade said.

"Thanks to our friend Moriarty, he knows how to get to Sherlock and what hurts him"

"What do you mean?" I ask.

"He means when I 'committed suicide'." Sherlock said giving his extremely sarcastic smile.

"So he knows how he can hurt Sherlock? What by getting to his friends?" I rolled my eyes when Sherlock cringed at the word friends.

"Yes, that's what we think. So, that means that you mostly, are in danger John" said Lestrade, pointing a finger at me.

I felt rather special.

"I don't know whether I should be flattered or worried." I said with a cheeky smile upon my face.

"Don't worry John, I'm sure your night and shining armour will protect you." Donovan said entering the room.

Sherlock rolled his eyes and sighed heavily, then handing me my coat suggesting that he wanted to leave now.

"Just remember John, watch your back!" Lestrade called after us.

"He's Sherlock Holmes! We won't need too!" I called back still smiling.

…...

We got a taxi back like always, and I was pondering over everything that had been said earlier on.

"So what happens now?" I asked.

Sherlock looked at me pretending to be confused, a signal that he wanted me to expand on my question. I rolled my eyes.

"The Black Lotus. Should we be worried? Are they a danger to us?" I asked.

Sherlock looked plainly at me. "I think you should rephrase that question John."

I looked at him raising my eyebrows waiting for him to explain even though I knew what he meant. I didn't need to deduce him, I knew him well enough, and he knew me well enough to know that I knew what he what he was going to say.

This was how our relationship worked; we both knew that we cared about one another and that we were best friends, but e never let it show because it would seem awkward, and things wouldn't be the same. It was strange and all, but that was just the way our world kept on turning, if we played our parts right.

"John, we are going to be fine. We always are, in the end." He said looking forward and no longer at me. That was one of the things a I respected most of all about Sherlock. He was always looking on.

…...

We arrived back at the flat, and I collapsed onto my armchair. I still didn't really understand what we were dealing with here, or even if we actually had a case.

"Sherlock, what does this mean then? Do you finally have a case now or are we just going to sit and wait for me to get captured and then you run off and save me?"

"Well normally I would go with the second option, but since I haven't had a single case in over a month…I want to find out more about this Dao."

"Okay then, but first I just want to make something clear to you. You do realise that other people are in danger here to?"

"What do you mean?" Sherlock asked frowning, and this time he was actually oblivious to the point I was making.

"Well Moriarty threatened you with more than one person, so maybe this guy will too? We can't be sure."

"No we can't, until we have more information. Until then, we can do nothing. Knowledge is power."

"But this guy could strike whenever. How can we protect everyone?" I asked.

"We can't...I can't. I can't protect anyone, not even you John." Sherlock said almost sadly.

We sat for a moment in silence, Sherlock with his fingertips together and his elbows rested on the sides of the armchair.

"Shall I put on some tea?" I asked after a while.

"I thought you weren't looking after me anymore?" Sherlock said raising his eyebrows.

"Well I want some so I might as well make you a cup."

I heard Sherlock laugh as I wondered into the kitchen, his deep chuckles fading away over the noise of the boiling kettle


	6. Back to the death place

It had only been a day since we received the news about 'The Return of the Black Lotus' as I called it on my blog. I was reading the papers when Sherlock got a call from Lestrade.

"What was that?" I asked wondering if there was any news of The Black Lotus.

"Lestrade, he says he has found something we will want to see. Finally something interesting is happening!" Sherlock said jumping up from the breakfast table, and putting his gloves and coat on forgetting he still had his pyjamas on.

"Sherlock hold on!" I said with my mouth full of toast.

"What John? Don't delay me!"

"I can't believe you could miss this! You can deduce everyone but yourself! You're in your pyjamas you dope!"

Sherlock turned on his ankles to look in the mirror.

"We speak of this to no one agreed?" Sherlock said sticking his finger in my face.

"Okay okay now go and get dressed!"

…

A few minutes later we were in a taxi on our way to the crime scene.

"So what do you think Lestrade has found?" I asked.

"I'm not sure but the way he said that he thought that we would want to see it, suggests that it's something to do with The Black Lotus."

"We say The Black Lotus, but isn't it just this Dao guy? Lestrade didn't mention anyone else."

"He is the leader and I'm guessing he has gathered some followers."

I nodded trying to think of what we were about to see, when I realised I didn't even know where we were going.

"Sherlock, where are we actually going?"

"Didn't I tell you? Bart's hospital rooftop." Sherlock said with no expression at all.

…

We made are way up to the roof, and passed many yellow banners saying 'no entry crime scene in progress' and investigators in those blue costumes. Being with Sherlock gave me the privilege of not having to wear those.

We found Lestrade and he led us to the crime scene. There, right where Sherlock jumped was a dead, naked, bloody, body with one written word carved onto its chest…

Sherlock.

** Remember to let me know what you think -)**


	7. Carved words on broken bodies

Sherlock stared at the body for some time before getting his little magnifying glass out and examining the body of the dead man.

I cringed before asking the question that no one had asked yet, "Who was he?"

Sherlock stood up and slipped his magnifying glass back into his pocket and slipped his black gloves back on.

"He was a Physician and he worked in Bart's, a man of lets say, fifty seven." Sherlock stated.

"Okay, I'm guessing he was killed by The Black Lotus then?"

"Yes." Sherlock said deeply.

"But why him? It's obvious the Black Lotus killed him to show you they are coming for you and threatening you but why this particular doctor? He could have killed anyone, someone that actually matters to you. Why him?" I asked confused.

"I'm not sure yet but he must be connected to me in some way. Maybe very faintly, but somehow. Like, the fact he works in Bart's and he was killed in Bart's and I jumped off the rooftop of Bart's. That's a connection but I don't see how it really means anything important." Sherlock said looking at the dead man.

"Well does this tell us anything? Anything about who might be in danger or who he is coming for?" Lestrade asked.

"Well, since he is a doctor it might be suggesting that he is coming for John, because John is an army doctor. The killer isn't making it very clear, and he is doing that on purpose. Why? Because he wants to scare me, to make me worried. But from what we're looking at, he may be suggesting John and John's all I can see this particular man relates to at the moment."

"And what about you're name?" Lestrade said.

"My name?" Sherlock questioned frowning.

"You know, the big, bloody word carved into this man's skin." Lestrade said.

"That's just there to frighten me or John, unless there is a pattern. I would say there are going to be more murders detective inspector. I would keep the look out."

"What do you mean more murders? How do you know?" Lestrade said annoyed.

"The words, they are going to make a sentence." Sherlock stated.

"I would keep a note of every word that is carved onto every dead body you find. Keep a lookout!"

Sherlock starts walking away and I run to keep up with him.

"A sentence? How do you know?" I asked.

"Why else would he carve a word into the skin? It would take time and effort, which are hard to find during a murder."

"You said so yourself, to frighten us."

"Really? The Black Lotus know me now. They know there is no point in that."

"Sherlock!"

"Its only true John, it doesn't work on me and they know it and so do you."

"What, you're not frightened that one of your friends might die?" I said.

"You know that's not what I meant." He said still looking forward and not at me.


	8. Scars

**Hi everyone I just wanted to say that I am changing my story a little bit. Instead of Molly getting captured, it's going to be Molly AND someone else. So now this story is called the ONES who counted. I have changed the little description underneath my story so if you want to know who else gets captured and more you can read that but if you want a surprise I suggest you don't! I'm still not shipping anyone together, so that stays the same but I thought I better tell you! Thanks for reading! **

**Lucy :)**

. . .

I sat in my armchair twiddling my thumbs whilst Sherlock was on the phone with Lestrade.

"Yes, yes. Okay. Anything else useful? Okay. Goodbye."

Sherlock ended the call and sat down crossing his legs and putting his hands together in his thinking position as I called it.

He saw me there staring at him waiting for him to say something.

"You want to help right?" He asked.

"Yes of course." I say sitting up eager.

"I need you to do some research for me. I want you to find more about Dao and the dead man. See if anything links the two men, anything to do with their history, childhoods, family anything similar. I suggest talking to the dead man's friends or family if he has any. " Sherlock said.

"Meanwhile I have to go and speak with my brother. He has been extremely busy lately he says and he wouldn't ask if it wasn't urgent. His normal, pathetic excuse." He said rolling his eyes.

I nodded.

Sherlock looked at me up and down.

"You seem a little quiet, something bothering you?" He asked glumly.

"No, I'm fine, just fine." I said trying to hide how I really felt.

The truth was, I was worried about Sherlock. I was worried that The Black Lotus were going to threaten him and black mail him just like Moriarty did and he would leave again. What if he was going to leave for good this time?

"Come on John, you know hiding feelings doesn't work with me. Wouldn't you rather just tell me than me have to tell you?" Sherlock said whilst sending a text.

I sighed. "It's just I feel like we don't know enough of what The Black Lotus are trying to do. We aren't prepared for it. Who are they going for and what are they going to do once they have whoever they want? Kill them?"

I lied.

"They won't kill them, that's way too boring!"

"Sherlock! Just answer the question!"

"Most likely they will kidnap them for me to find and then try and kill me, torture them to hurt me maybe, use your imagination John!"

"Why aren't you worried? Don't you care? You faked your own death for two years to save your friends and now your not even worried?! I thought we had sorted this! I thought we had confirmed that you do care and that you do have a heart! There's no point hiding it anymore! Doing it to me fine, but Mrs Hudson, Lestrade, Molly!?"

"I'm not hiding it John! I don't have to worry because I'm not going to let anything happen to anyone! I just need some time to figure things out and then this case will be solved just like all the others."

I was standing up now, I didn't even realise.

"No Sherlock. You can't be sure. Every case we've solved somebody nearly gets killed and sometimes it's just too close."

"But no one has died yet, and no one will this time." He said looking at me now, but I was just staring at the floor in silence.

"You're losing your faith in me John."

"No."

"Then what is it…? Oh! You're worried about me? You're worried something is going to happen to me! You're not worried about yourself or Lestrade or Mrs Hudson getting hurt, you're worried about me." Sherlock stated smiling, pleased with himself.

That was just it for me.

"Yes Sherlock I am! The last time someone threatened you like this you disappeared for two years and I nearly died inside! You left me to rot for two years! You will never understand how that felt and I wouldn't expect you too now! This is still a joke for you and I can't bear it! I just don't want you to leave again and you haven't made it clear enough that you won't!"

I stormed out of the flat with tears in my eyes. He wouldn't understand, I don't think he would be capable of it. Him leaving has left a scar on me that will never fade, even now that he is back. I just didn't think he could prove to me that he cared enough about me to not leave me again.

But something else was badgering me inside. A voice saying is this really his fault or is it mine for not showing him how much I care for him, that I can't bear it without him here.


	9. The thoughts of Mr Sherlock Holmes

**_Sherlock_**

I sat there alone, in the darkness, my fingertips pressed gently together, and the last flame from the fire now gone out.

I never knew John was worried about me leaving again. I knew that I wasn't ever going to do that again unless I had no other option but John didn't. He said that I would never be able to show him that and maybe he was right. I wasn't good at doing things like that.

It was true, everything John said about me caring and having a heart. I used to believe people when they said I was as emotionless as a machine and as cold as a fish but now everyone saw me differently and so did I. Moriarty failed at killing me but he definitely succeeded at burning a heart out of me.

I wasn't sure if I preferred the way people saw me now, still a selfish arrogant sod but with a heart, or the way it was before the fall.

If I didn't say something to John to reassure him, he might just leave _me_. But what was I to say? I really didn't know how to be nice without manipulating people, or not really meaning it.

. . .

It was late now, and John still hadn't returned from wherever he had gone. Normally when John was angry with me, he would go and take a stroll in the park or something not worth me pondering over.

He must have been really pissed off with me since he had been quite a while.

I didn't worry though; I knew he would come back.

He always did in the end.

**So sorry this chapter is so short :/ I just thought it ended nicely there. Thanks for reading!**

**Lucy :)**


	10. Acceptance

It was getting late by now, so I decided it was time to head back to the flat and face Sherlock. I had calmed down by now so I would be fine but it would be awkward like it always is after a row.

Sherlock probably thought that I had gone for some walk in the park like I normally do when I'm irritated with him, but this time I wasn't.

I decided that I overreacted a little about everything I said, so I decided to get on with what he asked me to do.

I had managed to find out about the doctor who was killed on top of Bart's.

His name was Samuel Richardson and he was fifty seven just like Sherlock had deduced. He had a small family, one son and a daughter who was killed at only the age of six years old, and a wife who was killed in a car accident only a few years ago. His son was happily married and had two children so he was a grandfather.

However I also found something else extremely interesting about this man.

He had been an army doctor, just like me.

So that pretty much settled it, I was the one The Black Lotus was coming for.

. . .

I returned to the flat to find Sherlock exactly in the same place as I left him, his armchair.

"Your back later than usual, where have you been?" Sherlock said plucking the strings on his violin.

"I was doing some research."

"Oh really? What about?"

He already knew the answer; he was just trying to make conversation.

"I was doing what you asked me to do, I found out about the doctor who was killed." I said sitting down beside him.

"I managed to find out quite a lot. He had a sad history, his daughter died at only the age of six and his wife died only a few years ago in a car accident. So, he lives alone but he has a son who is happily married with two kids."

Sherlock nodded pondering over what I said about the dead man.

"I can't see how that connects to anyone of any importance nor has any relation to Dao. Did you find anything interesting about Dao?"

"No, but I did find out something that has relation to someone about the doctor."

Sherlock looked at me already knowing it was bad news.

"The dead man was an army doctor just like me." I said.

We both looked at the floor for a few seconds, only the sound of our breathing and the plucking of the strings on his violin.

"John this doesn't mean for definite that he coming for you. We need to find more facts that tell us it is you and it is not. From what you have just told me about the doctor, some of that stuff has nothing to do with you that could be suggesting that he is not coming for you."

Sherlock was trying to comfort me, but of course he wasn't doing very well which was no surprise at all.

"But the army doctor thing isn't something we should just ignore, it's a pretty big relation to me and I'm sure that The Black Lotus killed him because of that and would want us to notice it." I said.

We sat there in silence for a couple of minutes, just thinking.

"I'm going to go to bed." I said getting up.

"And John…?" Sherlock said.

I stopped but didn't turn round to face him.

"I'm not going to leave again, I give you my word. Not unless the lives of you, or anyone else I care about are completely in danger and the only way to save them is to for me to go. You have to understand that leaving was never an easy thing for me and it never will be."

I nodded still not looking back to face him, and walked on.

. . .

I guess he didn't have to prove that he cared, because I knew him too well to know that he couldn't not care.

There were times when I thought that he wasn't human, but I knew that he was and every human being has emotions and ambitions and faults. That's what makes us what we are.

Sherlock is a great man, and it was just the beginning to him becoming a good one so I couldn't keep blaming him when bits of his cold side showed because he was still learning.

It sounds stupid, but it was true.

The thing I had to remember was that I had a friend unlike any I had ever had, and we were both learning together.

I knew that one day, if I was very very lucky, Sherlock would just prove to me how much he cared without even meaning to.

That would be a day I would wait the rest of my life for.

**Hi guys I just wanted to say that if you unfollow me or unfavourite, could you send me a little message telling me why so I can improve. **

**Thanks,**

**Lucy :)**


	11. The Unfinished Deductions

I awoke the next morning, to the sound of Sherlock's violin which I didn't mind. I quite liked it when he played as long as it wasn't to annoy me.

I went into the kitchen and filled the kettle up for some tea.

"Morning." Sherlock said.

"Good morning." I replied, "Do you want a cuppa? I'm making tea."

Sherlock nodded so I got another cup out from the cupboard.

"So, what time did you go to bed last night?" I asked actually wondering because I heard him stopping back and fourth for ages when I was trying to sleep.

"Late, couldn't sleep." He said.

"That's a surprise." I muttered pouring the water.

"There still haven't been anymore murders. Why is he taking his time? Surely he would move onto the next one straight away." Sherlock said now pacing the floor again.

"Well, if you're lucky we might get one today." I said bringing the tea into the lounge.

"Yes." Sherlock muttered staring into nothing.

I placed the tea on the coffee table and sat down. I picked up a newspaper and relaxed.

"So what are we doing then? We aren't really solving anything are we?" I asked.

"No, we are just waiting."

I nodded and went back to my newspaper.

. . .

A few moments later, Sherlock received a call from Lestrade.

"What is it?"

Sherlock smiled briefly and then raised his eyebrows excited.

"Another murder."

He grabbed his coat and I pulled myself up from my armchair and we left our flat in a hurry as usual.

We got a taxi to Bart's. This time we weren't going to a crime scene, we were just going to Bart's hospital to inspect the body there.

"Ah, Lestrade." Sherlock said smiling sarcastically.

I smiled at Lestrade and then turned to see Molly standing next to the body putting her plastic gloves on.

"Molly." Sherlock said nodding at Molly.

Molly smiled awkwardly.

There had been a tense and awkward atmosphere between Sherlock and Molly lately. I didn't quite know what it was all about. Ever since Sherlock's disappearance, something between Molly and Sherlock had occurred which kept a kind of distance between them. Sherlock never teased or made mean comments to Molly anymore, yet he wasn't nice to her either. It was as if they were neglecting each other in a way, but it was sadder than that.

I couldn't help but notice it.

"Reveal the body."

Molly pulled the white sheet slowly away from the body, revealing a naked middle aged man with another word carved onto his skin just like Sherlock predicted.

The word was not the word I was expecting to see next following on from the word Sherlock which was the previous and first word that we had seen carved onto the old Doctor's skin.

The word that I, and everyone else in the room was staring at was,

Painstakingly.

Sherlock slipped some rubber gloves on and started to inspect the body with his magnifying glass.

Who was this man was the question I wanted to ask. What could a normal, casual, middle aged man have to do with Sherlock Holmes. He looked about in his early forty's.

I guess you could say that Sherlock was a middle aged man like him, and that was one thing they had in common, but this man lying dead on a slab in front of me, looked like a perfectly normal guy, and anyone who knew Sherlock would say that he isn't a normal man.

The man's face had quite a bit of bruising around the check bones and chin. It looked like Dao and his gang had given the man a right beating.

He didn't have a quick and easy death that was for sure.

"Do you still have the man's clothes?" Sherlock asked standing up straight again.

Normally this question would be asked to Molly, but Sherlock was just staring down at the body instead of her, so I didn't have a clue who he was asking.

He wouldn't even look her in the eye.

"Yes, I should imagine so." Lestrade said, answering for Molly frowning.

I wasn't the only one who was noticing it then.

Lestrade gave me a look as if to say, 'What's up with Sherlock and Molly?' I just shrugged at him.

Molly went to fetch the dead man's clothes, and as soon as she left Sherlock looked up.

I gave him a look, raising my eyebrows and he raised them back at me mouthing 'what?'

Before I could ask him all my questions, Molly came back with a pair of boots, a coat, trousers and shirt.

As soon as Molly came in with the clothes, Sherlock's interest drifted from me and straight to the clothes in Molly's arms.

Molly also brought with her a suitcase that must have belonged to the dead man.

"Ah, yes…" Sherlock said taking them from Molly and rummaging through them hastily. He was searching for some kind of evidence or anything useful that could tell him something about this man.

I saw him rummaging through the coat pockets.

So the sentence we had so far was 'Sherlock painstakingly'. That didn't really make any sense at the minute and I couldn't make much of it.

"Aaah!" Sherlock said twisting round so his body was facing us but his eyes were fixed on a small object that looked like a ring between his fingertips.

"Got anything?" Lestrade asked.

Sherlock smirked.

"This man was 45 years old; you can tell by his clothes that he worked as a business man. A smart and rich man you could say, by his clothes which are expensive, and you can tell he has gone through some effort to make his outfit look smart and of high standards. He spent most of his time at work sitting in an office, which you can tell by his fat, awkward figure and the veins bulging out of his legs. His name was Mark Hunter-"

"Wait hold on, how can you possibly know that?" Lestrade asked.

Sherlock shoved some kind of ID in Lestrade's face.

"His driving license was in his trouser pocket, so what does that tell us? Normally men's driving licences are kept in their wallets wouldn't you agree? However his wallet isn't on the body nor the anywhere hidden amongst the clothes so the killer has taken it. Why? Maybe the killer was in a hurry and just assumed that any evidence of who this man would be kept in the wallet. Unfortunately for him, this man must have used his licence at some point in his day. There is also a suitcase which I'm sure all of you have spotted telling us that this man was going somewhere. The fact that the suitcase is rather large and he was using his license could suggest he was leaving the country for some reason. I also found this,"

Sherlock shoved a passport in our faces,

"-In his coat pocket, however the page with all his details has been torn out by the killer I assume but this proves our point that he was leaving the country. Furthermore though, it leaves the question where was he going, why was he going?"

"Maybe he was offered a job somewhere? He could be staying there for a little while?" I suggested.

"No no, look at him! Look at his luggage! The suitcase is large looks like he intends to stay wherever he's going for quite some time. Plus the fact that he's a wealthy man he wouldn't leave the country unless something bad had happened to his life here, maybe family problems meaning that he wanted to escape-"

Sherlock suddenly stopped talking, his eyes wide, gazing into nothingness.

I knew that look.

That was the look he made whenever he had just discovered or realised something really surprising or bad.

At the moment I couldn't tell which one it was.

"What then? Sherlock, why was he leaving the country?" Lestrade asked.

"I…I have don't know at the moment, I'll ring you later and see if I have any news by the end of the day." Sherlock murmured still gazing into nothingness, putting on his coat at the same time.

"Sherlock are you okay?" I asked frowning.

"Yeah yeah, fine…just need some time and a bit of space to figure things out don't worry." He said now walking towards the door. He looked completely oblivious and I was actually worried he was going to walk into a door or something.

I followed, completely clueless to what had happened to Sherlock Holmes.

**Sorry I haven't updated in so long! I was busy with Christmas and all that stuff! Hope you had a good one though!**

**Lucy ;)**


	12. A Memoir of Sherlock Holmes

**_SPOILER ABOUT SERIES THREE BUT IMPORTANT TO READERS OF MY STORY:_**

**_Okay guys I planned this story before series of three Sherlock came out, and those of you who have seen it know that Sherlock's parents are happy and together but if I change the way I have written about Sherlock's parents and childhood in this, it will affect my whole_**** story**

_Sherlock_

* * *

No no, it was all wrong! Why would The Black Lotus do this now?! Why would they do something that linked to me and only me so obviously, right after they made out it was John who was in danger? It didn't make any sense and now all the separate threads that had been lingering in my mind and had finally sewed themselves together, had been ripped apart by this incident.

But no, I shouldn't forget about everything I had figured out, this shouldn't have to change anything. Maybe if I thought, really thought hard, there may be a connection between the two bodies.

The first one, a doctor found on top of Bart's was linked to me _and_ John. The location of where the body was found was linked to me, and the body itself was linked to John. Now why did The Black Lotus decide to put the body there? Were they giving me clues or were they simply just trying to provoke me?

I stopped staring out of the window of the cab we were in and turned to face John. Every now and then he would stir and glance up at me and then turn back to the window.

We didn't speak at all in the cab ride back, until we reached Baker Street.

There was something I needed to tell John, that I had never told him before. Something that I wouldn't normally speak about in public, in fact at all.

My Parents.

We reached Baker street and when we got in we both sat down on our armchairs. John sighed and looked at me. He was waiting for me to say something.

"Are you sure you okay?" he asked, leaning towards me.

"Yes yes, fine." I replied.

"So, what have we got then? We know the man was leaving the country and he was intending to stay there a while, but we don't quite know why…do we?"

I sat staring at the fireplace. Telling John about my past, my _childhood_ wasn't going to be easy for me and I could admit that much to myself.

"John, I do. I know why that man was leaving the country but it doesn't seem to make any sense to me at the moment."

"What, why the man was leaving the country?"

"No. Why this particular murder relates to me."

A look of surprise flushed over John's face.

"How is he related to you? Is it something to do with your past?"

"Yes."

John nodded and mumbled "oh…"

I could tell he wanted me to elaborate.

"John, I think The Black Lotus are trying to imply something. This murder, this man, is related to my parents _and_ my childhood."

"Oh…How exactly?"

"You know how this man was leaving the country? He was escaping, escaping from his life here. He had obviously made a mistake which affected or was going to affect the life he made. Perhaps his family, children a relationship he was in."

"So you think that this man had cheated on his wife or girlfriend and was trying to leave her?"

"Yes."

"So how does that relate to you?"

"John, when I was just a boy, I had a family, a good one. My mother, my father and my brother Mycroft. However a few months after my eight birthday, I was in bed and my mother was out. I heard voices downstairs a woman's voice along with my fathers. Not my mothers voice obviously. It didn't take me long to figure out that something was wrong. One evening we were sitting having dinner as a family, and my father had to take a call. He left the room, and my mother grew suspicious. She asked me if I knew who it was, and I said "probably father's lady friend again." The next morning I found my mother crying alone on her bedside. I looked out the bedroom window and my father's car was gone. He had left us."

I finished explaining and John stared at me in awe.

"So there then, that's a part of my past that you now know, and you will speak of it to no one unless you want an angry Sherlock on your hands." I said getting up from my armchair and giving John my massive, fake cheesy grin.

"Tea? I'll go make some!" I was trying to change the subject as quickly as I could.

"But I thought Sherlock Holmes never made tea?" John said smirking.

"Just trying to break the ice…A bit."

So it was then that the frantic day ended with John and me in our usual place, sitting by the fire in our armchairs, me correcting the television and John on his blog.


End file.
